


Slow Burn

by thanatopis



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-21 10:31:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3688902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thanatopis/pseuds/thanatopis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ushijima Wakatoshi is someone unattainable for Oikawa Tooru. For various different reasons that should probably make him not want to sleep with him as bad as he wants to, but nonetheless...</p><p>Oikawa is used to getting what he wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slow Burn

**Author's Note:**

> While writing this fic I apologized to every person who ever thought I was wholesome.

Oikawa Tooru acknowledges that there has always been something fascinating about Ushijima Wakatoshi that has set him apart from anyone Oikawa has ever known.

He’s a man of stoic distinction, one with many accomplishments under his belt, including being the former ace wing-spiker of the national Japanese volleyball team while he studied business management in school with Oikawa’s older brother.

Ushijima is no different from any of the cads his uptight father is business partners with, but somehow Ushijima makes nearing middle age and old-sure arrogance look good.

If he were being honest, Oikawa has wanted to ride his cock from before he even knew he was even mildly interested in guys—let alone ones more than ten years his senior.

As a starry-eyed kid with nothing but volleyball on the mind, Ushijima had been nothing more than a aspiration. An aspiration eventually turned dream that he entertained late at night in his bed, imagining a man who would take him by the hair and dominate him, taking whatever Oikawa had left.

Oikawa played coy on some nights, wanting to savor the image of Ushijima running the tips of his fingers along the inside of his thighs, brushing them back and forth until Oikawa squirmed and caved in, touching himself after so much exquisite torture.

At thirteen he had been utterly clueless in what his preferences prefered.

‘Hesitant’ was a better word, as Oikawa had no idea what exactly he should do or what felt right. 

Iwaizumi liked girls—girls with shy smiles and boobs that he could fully encompass in his hands and here he was, picturing Ushijima Wakatoshi’s hands, firm and calloused, work his cock with practiced skill.

Liking girls had never been the issue—Oikawa genuinely  _loved_  girls. They smelled nice, had soft skin, and they were beautiful to look at, but being with one did absolutely nothing for him.

Once during the summer before high school, Oikawa had kissed a girl by the name of Yuki. She was one of many girls that had a blaringly obvious crush on him and he took advantage of that as he clumsily kissed her, their lips meeting unremarkably.

She was pretty in the plain sense, nothing too outstanding, but she was sweet and shy and Oikawa latched onto her for her unsuspecting nature.

It had been a fucked up test of sorts and the word ‘manipulative’ had come to mind while he’d been doing it.

 _One_ : to see how far she would let him go. Yuki moaned softly when his hand cupped her right breast through her bra. Oikawa tried with all of his might to repress the smirk that threatened the corners of his mouth when she urged him to squeeze  _harder_.

 _Two:_  Oikawa was desperate to cling to one last shot of what he thought was normality. If Yuki couldn’t rouse anything from him, most likely no woman would ever be able to.

The results of his dilemma immediately reared when Yuki’s hand hesitantly found itself in his lap. She had been more than a little confused and hurt when her imploring touches roused nothing more than an uncomfortable shift in his feet and awkward clearing of his throat. Oikawa apologized and left hurriedly right after.

And as they say, that had been that.

At the ripe age of sixteen, new discoveries were being unearthed and Oikawa realized that in addition to solely liking guys, he also was a kinky fuck. Oikawa liked having fingers screwed into his ass, liked being spanked and lightly slapped, and nothing got him hotter than a good looking boy down on his knees in front of him, eagerly sucking his cock as if it was the only thing he knew how to do, and to Oikawa, that’s all he needed to know.

Whenever Oikawa thought of these things being done to him, Ushijima Wakatoshi was never too far behind.

* * *

 

The thing about Ushijima is that the stoic bastard  _knows_  Oikawa wants to fuck him.

Wants to fuck him  _bad_ —wants those huge hands all over his body, gripping his hair, forcing him on his hands and knees and  _shit_ —wants that cock, wants  _everything_  and Oikawa sighs for the umpteenth time tonight, readjusting his pants.

The problem is that Ushijima is frustratingly polite. He would  _never_  touch Oikawa because he works for Oikawa’s father and is best friends with Oikawa’s brother. It’s a pain in the ass…and not the kind he likes.

Oikawa laments daily over the fact that he’s nineteen now and nothing is stopping the bastard from bending him over the nearest flat surface and fucking him hard.

Except maybe for the fact that if his father ever found out, Oikawa has no doubt the man would suffer a premature heart attack, and then—just because life is funny like that—come back and beat him black and blue until he looked like a spoiled blueberry that sat too long in the fridge.

Oikawa’s not stupid though. He can see how Ushijima’s eyes linger far too long on his body or how he avoids touching Oikawa at all cost whenever they are in close proximity. Oikawa likes to run his fingers down Ushijima’s back whenever he passes by and no one is looking, taking so much pleasure in how he stiffens then shivers. He wants to whisper in Ushijima’s ear what he would like to do to him and what he’d like Ushijima to do to _him_  in return, fanning his hot breath all over the nape of his neck, delighting in the shiver that would follow after.

He finds it all so  _amusing_  in how Ushijima turns red whenever he catches Oikawa staring at him, quickly moving his gaze away in that timid way he does that never fails to charm Oikawa, because it seems so out of his character.

Whenever Ushijima is over at their house, which is quite often, Oikawa makes himself as known as possible. He strolls around the house in nothing more than some short shorts and a deep, loose tank top that he makes sure always shows at least one of his nipples.

He’s shameless with it. Honestly, Oikawa is surprised no one has been able to pick up on how long he’s tried to seduce Ushijima Wakatoshi. But then again, he’s really not. Oikawa is extremely careful when he needs to be and he is _nothing_ but careful.

“Why won’t you just get it over with already Ushiwaka-chan?” Oikawa asks sweetly one evening, stepping into his father’s study that currently holds the attention of this one infuriatingly handsome man.

Ushijima, yet again, is over at his house for dinner, looking striking and clean-cut in a casual business suit as he gazes at something faraway through one of the windows.

Oikawa notices that Ushijima does this often—gazing absentmindedly at people or objects until whatever thought holds his mind captive expels into the form of calm intake of breath. Oikawa has always wanted to ask what Ushijima thinks about in those moments, but they seem personal so he never asks.

A pause settles over them and Oikawa almost repeats himself before Ushijima slowly pivots his back. The muscles strain through his shirt and Oikawa just barely resists the urge to bite his lip into his mouth and suck his need away.

Narrowed, skeptical eyes look back at him as Ushijima holds himself lazily; hands shoved inside his pants pockets, looking like the textbook definition of cool and collected. Oikawa smiles easy, leaning on the archway of the room like he has everything to prove and one might say that he does.

His mint green sweater rides up on his hip from the subtle movement, showing a tease of milky white skin and the corner of Oikawa’s mouth quirks smugly when he sees Ushijima’s eyes drop for just the briefest of seconds before moving politely back up to his face.

“Pardon?” He says, playing deliberately ignorant, rocking back on the heels of his expensive loafers like he doesn’t fucking know what Oikawa just fucking said.

Oikawa clicks his teeth with ire, childishly narrowing his own eyes. Ushijima chuckles softly at the look, a small knowing grin forming slowly on his face and Oikawa in that moment so desperately  _wants._

“I said  _old man_ ,” Oikawa begins, rising gradually from the arch.

Ushijima isn’t old by any means but it makes it worth it to see how the other man’s brows furrow at being reminded.

Oikawa’s arms cross stubbornly as he stalks his way closer towards Ushijima, until he can smell whatever amber cologne he wears and see how pink and full his lips look from so close up. Oikawa wonders vaguely if he’s ever sucked cock. Oikawa hopes he has. He’s never quite wanted someone this much. It’s both frustrating and frightening, his yearning need.

“When are you going admit that you want me and actually  _do something about it_  so I can sleep better at night.”

Years’ worth frustration—both sexual and not—shine easily through Oikawa’s tone. He can’t think of one moment in his teens when he _didn’t_ want this man, wasn’t pinning over him like the girls in Oikawa's own fan clubs.

If Ushijima takes any offence to Oikawa’s blunt accusation, he sure doesn’t show it.

His eyes roam introspectively over Oikawa’s face as if gauging him for some sort of wanted reaction. Then suddenly, in the next second, Ushijima has his forearm in a loose grip, dragging him off to a dimmed, secluded part of his house that Oikawa knows for a fact his father and mother are on the other side of.

Oikawa’s head feels incredibly light and his body euphoric as Ushijima shoves him harshly against an alcove of the wall that barely hides both of their bodies. Ushijima crowds him, body warm and firm against his own. Ushijima’s scent and overall presences suffocates Oikawa in all the best of ways as his face heats and he gives the most pathetic of moans, biting his lip between his teeth to keep the rest in his throat at bay. God, he’s so _pathetic_.

“You’re so persistent, it’s absolutely  _aggravating_ ,” Ushijima husks angrily right into his ear, breath heady and hot and Oikawa hisses at the sensation, feeling himself immediately grow hard in his pants. His back arches desperately, needing to feel Ushijima all around him, pinning him down.

“You wanna get fucked?”

Oikawa moans pathetically at the absolutely filthy way  _fucked_ rolls off of Ushijima’s tongue, vulgar and every bit as erotic for Oikawa who has barely heard the older man utter a curse in conversation in the years he’s known him.

Oikawa’s lashes flutter, mouth opening agape, “ _Shit_ —say that again.”

Ushijima bites at the side of his neck, his hips lightly rutting into Oikawa’s own.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Oikawa wheezes, rational thought a long forgotten, distant thing as he grips desperately at Ushijima’s broad back, digging his nails in through the cotton dress shirt.

“Fucking do it already—what the hell are you waiting for?” He’ll cringe later at the needy, high whine his voice comes out as, but shit—he’s never been this hard for anybody before in his life. He’s never wanted to be so thoroughly fucked and owned as of right now, in this very moment, and Oikawa grinds his cock insistently on Ushijima’s thigh at the thought.

“I want you inside me so bad. I’ve wanted it since I was fourteen. God, you're so hot.” Secret after well-kept secret fly out of Oikawa’s mouth unbidden like clockwork and he doesn’t have a care to feel embarrassed or ashamed for wanting a man who was once twenty-one when he was ten. Ushijima makes him so fucking insane and Oikawa can’t say he minds.

Ushijima groans, the sound rumbling in Oikawa ears long after it’s gone.

Ushijima places several wet, open mouth kisses along Oikawa’s jaw and neck, tilting his head back further to receive them better, nipping with the blunt edge of his teeth. Oikawa jolts as he feels the firm tell-tell press of Ushijima’s cock grinding into the seam of his jeans and Oikawa swears, for a second, that he’s boneless.

Oikawa grips Ushijima’s biceps earnestly for fear of falling to the floor in an unflattering heap.

He pants, trying to catch his breath as arousal makes every inch of him extremely sensitive to the touch and he moans as strong forearms wrap around his waist, lifting him off the ground like he weighs little to nothing, only making him burn all the brighter in how easily he’s handled.

The only warning Oikawa gives Ushijima that he’s about to kiss him is a quick dart of his eyes to Ushijima’s mouth.

Oikawa’s maroon eyes, intense and carnal, gaze up into Ushijima’s own as he brings his mouth down hard. Lids flutter shut at the absolutely _perfect_  feel of Ushijima’s lips molding against his, both of them zealously taking anything and everything the other can give.

Oikawa rakes his nails down Ushijima’s back, feeling those muscles move under them like liquid water, just as smooth, maybe even more so.

Suddenly, it’s not enough. Oikawa wants to  _feel_  him.

Tugging impatiently at his cotton shirt, Oikawa sighs dreamily when his hands find the warm flesh of Ushijima’s back, pressing his palms flat, urging him closer.

Ushijima’s tongue delves in Oikawa’s mouth, running over his teeth, the roof of his mouth. He playfully cajoles Oikawa’s tongue with quick licks, the tip flicking against his fleetingly, and then pulling back before Oikawa has the chance to suck the appendage into his mouth.

Ushijima chuckles, the sound breathy and amused as he teasingly licks the cupid’s bow of Oikawa’s lips with a smug grin. He grinds his cock hard into the apex of Oikawa thighs while they’re tightly wrapped around his waist, ankles locked against the small of his back.

“Have any of your boys fucked you with a cock as big as mine?”

Oikawa’s back shoots off the wall with a low groan, hips desperate and quick in their movements for more friction—more  _anything_.

 _Fuck_ , he didn’t imagine this—his quiet and reserved Ushiwaka-chan with such a filthy mouth.

Oikawa smiles to himself. It’s so  _perfect_.

He knows Ushijima’s waiting for an answer, but the words are seized inside his throat and he manages to gasp instead, shaking his head.

“Any of them make you scream, Oikawa? Any of them ever make you beg? Because I will—I  _guarantee_  it.”

Oikawa’s eyes roll back in his head before flickering shut. He’s pretty sure he could come just from Ushijima whispering filthy, dirty things inside his ear alone. Oikawa gasps out a ‘no’, stupidly proud but also the tiniest bit disappointed. He wants to beg, he wants to fucking scream his voice raw and ragged—wants Ushijima to do it all to him.

“ _Fuck me_.” He says mindless, eyes dazed and lips red and wet, hips rolling powerfully. “Ruin me with your cock. Make me scream, make me beg—just fucking _take_  me already.”

Oikawa feels like an animal at this point as two large, broad hands cup the curve of his ass and squeeze. He ruts against Ushijima like his life depends on it because it’s so _good_.

It’s  _never_  felt this good.

Oikawa gets pissy when Ushijima does nothing to further the progression. If they keep up this up, he knows he’s going to come inside his pants and he really doesn’t want to go like that. Ushijima on the other hand seems to greatly enjoy how slow they’re going, relishing in it. His bottom lip is between both rows of perfectly straight teeth, concentrating, circling his hips in ways that make Oikawa’s breath hitch.

“Get your cock out and fuck my ass with it.” Oikawa demands impatiently, he can’t help it. He’s so used to getting what he wants.

Ushijima looks at him for an extended moment, humming deep in his throat, the sound incredibly pleased.

“Bossy little thing, aren’t you?” He roughly grabs both of Oikawa’s hands, deeply embedded within Ushijima’s hair, and shoves them against the wall over Oikawa’s head.

Oikawa breathes out a curse.

“Just hurry up and fuck me.”

Ushijima surprises Oikawa when he doesn’t do exactly that.

He pauses, and Oikawa swears he imagines a slight flustered look that crosses Ushijima’s face before he smiles, the look almost shy. The warmth and fondness Oikawa finds there is crippling. It makes his breath catch dangerously in his throat.

He won’t admit to finding someone beautiful.

Ushijima kisses him softly on the corner of his mouth, lingering before slowly lowing Oikawa back down on his feet, making sure he’s steady before letting go. Oikawa’s brows raise incredulously, his breathing heavy and his rational mind beyond skewed.

“I will, but not here.” Ushijima simply says, shaking his head. His voice is so deep, so sensual and Oikawa can’t help the shiver that rakes over his back like a tip of a feather soft against his skin.

Ushijima immediately goes to the task of fixing his rumpled shirt and hair, adjusting the uncomfortable hardness in his pants and Oikawa wants to growl at him to leave it.

He wants to demand why Ushijima stopped— _amazed_  that he even could stop because Oikawa was finding it more and more appealing—the prospect of being fucked hard on that wall.

“Holy shit,” is what Oikawa says instead. His knees are weak, his heart feels like it’s about to jump out of his chest, and he’s beyond horny. That’s the absolute worst part.

“You’re a fucking tease.” He says through his teeth, glaring at Ushijima through the fringe of his bangs in what he hopes looks to be intimating but Ushijima just snorts, unimpressed by whatever look Oikawa wears.

With a displeased, defeated grumble, Oikawa begrudgingly starts to make sure he looks presentable too. The bastard even has the _audacity_ to look pleased by Oikawa’s own shortness of breath and the red flush that has worked its way from the very tips of his ears down over his shoulders.

Oikawa wants to hit him. Hard.

 _‘Soon_ ’ is all Ushijima says before he walks off calmly down the hall, hands casually in his pockets, not one hair out of place as he leaves Oikawa hot and bothered, clutching the wall like some virgin in fear that if he doesn’t his legs will turn to goo.

Oikawa arrives to dinner late, much to his father’s annoyance and his mother’s disappointment.

He puts on one of his best smiles, chalking it up to simple ignorance. The alternative telling them the truth—that he had spent the past ten minutes in the bathroom furiously rubbing one out at the thought of Ushijima pounding his ass into oblivion, because he had a boner that just wouldn’t fucking quit.

Not his fucking fault, okay?

Oikawa doesn’t dare glance at Ushijima as he sits down, still upset as he slouches to make himself seem as small as possible, the action spurs a disapproving side glance from his father and a fond, amused smile from his brother who snorts softy.

“Your posture is horrible.” His father says offhandedly and Oikawa just shrugs, not really in the mood for a smart-ass pissing contest. His father always seems to win anyhow.

Five minutes into dinner and Oikawa sneaks a look at Ushijima.

The man eats politely: napkin in lap, fork in the right hand knife in the left, never talking with his mouth full and Oikawa just watches him, thinking of how only minutes prior, he was wild eyed and imposing.

It’s like he’s a completely different person, Oikawa thinks.

As if reading his own mind, Ushijima looks up right as he brings a piece of meat to his mouth and bites into it, chewing slowly without breaking eye contact. Oikawa gulps, not knowing why something so simple is so intimate but it is and he can feel himself getting hard again. His jaw tenses.

Ushijima smirks knowingly as he swallows.

* * *

 

 

Oikawa is sad to note that  _soon_  did not mean the next day.

Oikawa lazes around his room for the better part of the week, equal parts cranky and horny because no matter what he does, he can’t forget the feel of Ushijima’s cock grinding into his.

Fuck Ushijima Wakatoshi— _seriously_ , Oikawa contemplates as he pulls on some dark wash skinny jeans, his favorite cable-knit sweater, and a gray beanie from his desk, working it stylishly over his head. Even if Oikawa couldn’t focus on anything without that stoic shithead popping up, going to school was a must.

Oikawa jogs briskly down the stairs and through the living room, pausing when he enters the kitchen.

His father is perched almost lazily on one of the bar stools, typing away on his laptop and taking leisure sips of Earl Gray.

“Hey,” Oikawa says skeptically, tilting his head. It’s an odd sight to see his father working anywhere besides his study, an odder sight even still to not see him hacking away at the keyboard with punishing strokes as if he has a personal vendetta against the PC.

Running a tax auditing company, Oikawa supposes, would do that to anyone.

His father’s brow arches, bushy and speckled with gray as his eyes narrow slightly above the rim of the tea cup in practiced perfection. “Tooru,” He says pleasantly enough, “Didn’t see you come in. Going to school?—don’t forget your bag.”

Oikawa curses under his breath, he knew he was missing something.

Before he has the chance to turn around and run back up the stairs, his father mutters, “Oh, by the way—Wakatoshi asked if you could stop by his house this afternoon.”

Oikawa freezes immediately, breath catching and he looks back nervously at his father who has yet to take his eyes away from whatever has caught his interest on the screen.

Oikawa straightens, calmly clearing his throat and intertwining his hands behind his back.

“Um, can I ask why?”

His father looks at him then, his mouth dipping as if confused. Oikawa hopes his father can’t hear how fast his heart is beating, and in turn, realize how full of shit his son actually is.

“He said he had something to give you, mentioned that you told him you were having trouble with one of your assignments for statistics,” His father eyes turn stern and for a moment Oikawa thinks those eyes—the exact same as his own—can see right through him.

Oikawa almost panics at the gaze until his father blinks and his attention roams back onto whatever is so goddamn captivating on his laptop. His eyes dart back and forth across the screen. “He can help you Tooru, I mean it. Take advantage of that, Wakatoshi is an exceptional young man.”

Oikawa has to resist the urge to laugh madly so he smiles politely instead, the curve of his mouth is sinister in its sweetness.

Does his father have any  _inkling_  on what Ushijima plans to do with his youngest son? Oikawa grins, licking his lips instead. For his father’s sake, he sure hopes not.

“Of course, daddy.”

* * *

 

He arrives at Ushijima’s quarter to six.

The man lives in a house that’s big enough for at least five but his only companies are two huge dogs that are incredibly friendly and sweet.

As Oikawa pulls up, he can see Ushijima in the yard—big and spacious—enthusiastically playing fetch with a golden retriever and a Doberman that he’s had since they were pups. They run back and forth happily, legs powerfully pumping as each one takes a turn to grab the ball and catch it.

He’s trained them well.

Ushijima only takes a fleeting look at Oikawa’s car as he pulls up and Oikawa forcibly schools his features into an air of cool aloofness, as if his heart is not actually threatening to sink into his stomach and drop out of his ass at the sight of Ushijima, and the knowledge of what going to happen inside his house.

He’s more casual than Oikawa has seen him in a long while.

Dressed in dark jeans with a smattering of holes that highlight the thickness of his thighs, and his old volleyball sports jacket that makes him look like he’s still in college, like he’s only a year or two older than Oikawa instead of several.

 _You are completely unfair Ushijima Wakatoshi_ , Oikawa thinks as he walks calmly up the drive way.  _And you have an idea about it too don’t you piece of shit_.

The dogs immediately notice him, noses high in the air as the tennis ball is all but forgotten. They bark and run towards Oikawa in the hurried, almost frightening way all dogs do and Oikawa laughs, dropping down onto one knee as he greets them, scratching both dogs around the ears.

“They’ve always liked you.” The sound of Ushijima’s voice—warm, deep and rich, makes Oikawa flush.

He inwardly curses himself, ready to blame the slight redness of his cheeks on the cold fall weather if Ushijima even as so much mentions it. Luckily, he does not.

Oikawa shrugs; keeping preoccupied with scratching the Golden Retriever’s belly as the big blond giant appreciatively nips at his arm for the action.

The Doberman has already moved back to Ushijima’s side, stoic and proud like his owner. He seems content enough with Oikawa attention, for now, as he trots back to Ushijima’s side, kneeling next to his feet as his back goes ramrod straight and his ears cock in attention.

Oikawa snorts, rolling his eyes. Something about loyal servant dogs and their master’s on the tip of his tongue.

“What can I say? I’m amazing, of course they like me.” Oikawa retorts. He takes a deep breath, trying his best to calm his nerves without avail.

“So,” He begins rather sardonically, getting off of his knee and putting his hand on his hip.

“Apparently you have something to give me?” Oikawa looks at Ushijima then from under his lashes, hoping his face doesn’t give away how giddy and anxious he is.

Ushijima nods his head, smiling faintly. His gaze quickly moves to the concrete before roaming back up to Oikawa’s face as if shy and Oikawa finds it oddly endearing, making him calm down just a bit.

“Yes, I do.” Is all he says, before he turns and walks up the drive-way towards his house in long, powerful strides, the Doberman right on his heels.

Oikawa gulps, his fingers twitching nervously.

_Is this really about to happen?_

He blinks once, looking down at the Retriever who gazes up at him expectantly, fluffy tail waving happily back and forth in the air. His eyes are both confused and impatient as if telling Oikawa to hurry up and follow.

_What are you waiting for?_

Oikawa starts walking.

* * *

 

The inside of Ushijima’s house is plain.

It’s not boring, but there’s a refreshing simplicity in it that people of their status don’t appreciate.

Oikawa follows behind Ushijima a few paces behind. His hands are now damp and his knitted sweater seems far too hot on his body. Ushijima glances back over his shoulder, his eyes dark in the dim hallway, no doubt checking to see if Oikawa’s still there.

“You’re quiet.” He says softly, turning the corner into the kitchen.

Ushijima’s kitchen is beautiful. It looks like something off of a set of one of those cooking shows his mother is so fond of watching, with its marble floors, mahogany cupboards, and granite countertops.

“You want something to drink?” Ushijima asks, pulling out two glasses and Oikawa can’t help but to watch the stretch of those muscles without the jacket hiding anything—the round firmness of his ass as he rises slightly on his heels.

Oikawa nods but then realizes Ushijima can’t see him, “Yeah, sure.”

He leans lazily against the countertop, not knowing exactly what to do with his body yet. Despite his average stature, Oikawa’s never felt so  _big_.

“So—” Oikawa drawls out, eyebrow arching in a way he hopes is charming.

“How long have you been planning on doing this you closet pervert?” Oikawa asks playfully, his smirk devilish.

He’s genuinely curious about it—almost  _too_  curious as his heart speeds up with the thought of Ushijima secretly wanting him for all these years. The teasing only began when Oikawa was sixteen and god knows his crush didn’t help with his perpetual hard-on for the man.

Ushijima chuckles, his eyes crinkling attractively around the corners.

His eyes don’t leave the mixing of the drinks. Ushijima pours vodka and coffee into the cocktail shaker and Oikawa cringes when he sees that Ushijima doesn’t plan on using any cream.

“No, I don’t like Black Russians—add some cream…makes it sweet.” He says lightly as an afterthought.

Ushijima pauses, his gaze rising then as he gives Oikawa a scrutinizing once over, his eyes narrowing at the obvious implication.

“How do you—?” He sighs disapprovingly, shaking his head.

“Never mind, cream it is.”

Oikawa hums, nodding his head in approval as some of his natural confidence comes back. He deliberately brushes his fingers up against Ushijima’s own when the older man hands him his drink. The warmth there makes the tips of Oikawa’s fingers tingle knowingly.

Oikawa takes a tentative sip as he observes Ushijima shamelessly over the rim of his glass.

“It’s good.”

Ushijima nods, “Thank you.”

Oikawa tilts his head deliberately, a thought coming to him.

“Are you trying to get me drunk, Ushiwaka-chan?” Oikawa says teasingly, sticking the tip of his tongue out.

Ushijima watches him closely over the rim of his own glass, his gaze intense as he takes one last slow and leisure sip before setting the glass down on the counter next to Oikawa.

Ushijima licks his bottom lip, chasing the stray taste of vodka and coffee with a sensual swipe of his tongue. Oikawa’s reminded of how broad Ushijima’s chest is and how good he fucking smells when he comes to stand by him—his front to Oikawa’s side—and he has to resist the urge of leaning in closer.

Ushijima cocks his head, eyes considering.

“I don’t think I’ll have to get you drunk to convince you of getting into my bed tonight.”

The admission, spoken so honestly and confidently, makes Oikawa’s breath catch violently in his throat, ears suddenly hot. He just barely manages not to choke on his own goddamn spit. Oikawa immediately looks away, taking another sip from his glass as he shuffles his feet, blushing ear to ear. It’s so unlike him. He _hates_ it.

Suddenly a hand, big, clean, and calloused, traces the define line of his cheekbone. The pad of Ushijima’s thumb rubs back and forth indulgently while his fingers gently scratch and caress the skin below his ear.

Oikawa shivers, highly sensitive there. He automatically leans into the touch, eyes lidding as Ushijima lightly digs his nails in and Oikawa’s lips part on a much needed intake of air, feeling lightheaded all of a sudden.

He looks up at Ushijima from beneath the fringe of his bangs, gaging the man. When he finds something he likes, Oikawa shifts more openly into the touch, his eyes closing in rapture at having Ushijima’s fingers  _anywhere_  on him.

There’s a pause before he sighs, “You’d be right.” He pauses. “You never answered my question from before, you know.” Oikawa drawls attractively, circling his fingers around Ushijima’s wrist and moving the man’s thumb down to his pink, parted lips.

He kisses the pad delicately before bringing the appendage into his warm, awaiting mouth. Oikawa sucks around it diligently before pressing the flat of his tongue against the skin, making Ushijima’s thumb nice and slick.  

Ushijima perks at that, eyes darkening as well as hooding as he watches Oikawa suck off his thumb with a wanton eagerness that, no doubt, Oikawa will be embarrassed to think of later.

Something almost like a pained groan rumbles deep within Ushijima’s chest and the sound instantly lights every nerve ending in Oikawa’s brain on fire.

With one last languorous suck, Oikawa passes onto Ushijima’s index finger with a nice showy lick along the entire digit, making sure to catch and hold his eyes, communicating how much he would rather be sucking on something else.

Ushijima breathes out ruggedly through his nose, nostrils flaring, “Your question? What was it?”

Oikawa smiles around his finger.

“How long have you wanted me?” Oikawa’s voice is wispy and a touch more desperate than he would like, but he can’t help himself from asking—from needing to know.

He pouts disapprovingly as Ushijima slowly removes his hand from his wrist. His hand doesn’t venter far however when Ushijima shuffles closer, crowding Oikawa’s body against the counter at his back. Oikawa gasps, biting his bottom lip at the feel of heat Ushijima radiates so easily and he  _wants_ —wants so much that he stifles a needy moan.

“I noticed something early on with you Oikawa,” Ushijima begins, voice husky and deep in Oikawa’s ears. “Admiration is a part of everyone’s life—innocent crushes on those you admire is a normal occurrence, and I was very flattered by yours.”

Ushijima’s eyes soften, as if he’s thinking back to those times when Oikawa was a little brat, needlessly bothering him with questions about volleyball.

He continues, “But yours didn’t fade, did it?”

Ushijima’s head lowers and the pleasant sensation of his lips lightly dragging down Oikawa’s temple, towards his cheek, to the shell of his ear lulls Oikawa back into a sense heightened nerves and euphoric bliss. An arm thick with muscle gently wraps itself around Oikawa waist, bringing him further into Ushijima’s chest.

Oikawa almost sputters, his hands automatically finding themselves on Ushijima’s biceps. He exhales a shaky breath with how they’re pressed together—close and firm—and Oikawa tries not to short-circuit at the tell-tell bulge pressed against his thigh.

“Anyone would be a fool not to want you, it doesn’t matter when…” Ushijima trails off, lips dancing across his skin.

“You’re beautiful and talented and the thought of you in my bed almost undoes me.” Ushijima sounds almost pained when he says it and the amount of  _need_  Oikawa suddenly feels is simply terrifying.

Oikawa doesn’t think as his hands find fistfuls of Ushijima’s t-shirt, forcibly bringing the man down to feel his lips plush against his own.

Their mouths meet hard and insistent, Oikawa urgent as he rears up into the kiss, taking Ushijima’s bottom lip into his mouth and sucking. Something like a surprised gasp passes between his mouth and Oikawa’s before Ushijima growls and lifts him up, placing him solidly on the counter.

Oikawa almost melts with how much he likes that—being picked up as if he weighs little more than nothing and he moans obscenely as Ushijima moves insistently between his spread legs, feeling the heat and hardness of his cock even through the layers of their jeans.

“I’m gonna fuck you tonight.” Ushijima breathes sultry into his mouth when they part and something like a whine rips out of Oikawa’s throat because _finally_.

“Fuck yes.”

* * *

 

Oikawa slams Ushijima against the man’s bedroom wall, climbing him like his very life depends on it. He sucks marks on Ushijima’s neck, taking delight in how Ushijima tilts his head back and groans, gripping Oikawa by his hips and rutting into him more eagerly than before when they were knocking back and forth in the hallway.

Oikawa laughs, the sound delirious to his own ears as his hands yank up Ushijima’s shirt, and what he sees makes him want to get down on his knees and _pray_. He runs his hand greedily over Ushijima’s torso, abs clearly defined and dancing each time Ushijima rolls his hips.

Oikawa watches for a while, enamored.

“ _Fuck_ , I wanna come all over you.”

Before he knows it Oikawa’s back hits the bed, his body bouncing as his weight unsettles the various pillows and sheets, legs spread unconsciously, desperately wanting Ushijima to fill the space in-between them. He wiggles restlessly, his cock painfully hard in his jeans, watching Ushijima with lowered lids and his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Come here,” Oikawa whispers temptingly, maroon eyes flashing as he heavily rakes his gaze down Ushijima’s chest, down towards that huge, obvious bulge straining the front of his jeans and Oikawa licks his lips graciously. “I wanna suck your cock.”  

Ushijima looks at him appreciatively, eyes roaming up and down Oikawa’s body with a greediness that makes his whole being ache.

Slowly pulling his shirt over his head, Ushijima finally gets on the bed, crawling towards Oikawa and solidly settling over him.

An image of him running his tongue in-between the lines of Ushijima’s abs brandish unbidden through Oikawa’s mind, along with other depraved things, and he has to breathe out calmly through his nose at the jolt his cock gives.

“Patience,” Ushijima begins, rocking up on his knees after giving Oikawa a deep kiss. His voice is captivating and enticing all at once as his hands move to his belt, teasingly running his fingers over the buckle before pausing.

“We’ll get to that, all in due time...” It’s a shitty answer, and in any normal circumstance Oikawa would’ve rolled his eyes and told the guy he could go fuck himself then. But Ushijima’s moving, crawling back over Oikawa as he crowds him against the bedding and Oikawa feels like he’s about to pass out with how turned on Ushijima above him makes him feel.

Oikawa’s hands immediately reach up, needing to touch as the tips of his fingers run along the warm, tanned skin of Ushijima’s back, pleased when he feels him shiver and then hum.

Ushijima's lips brush the side of his neck, peppering wet kisses here and there before slowly lowering himself down onto Oikawa and grinding their hips together in nice, slow indulgent rolls.

It’s maddening, the feeling. How can something be too much but not enough?

Oikawa lurches, hips straining forward for more of that delicious contact.

“Mmm, fuck,” He moans, biting his lip into his mouth as his nails dig crescents into the dimples of Ushijima’s back.

“Do you want my cock?” Ushijima says and it shocks Oikawa how in control he sounds when  _he’s_  gasping and panting, something Oikawa only does when he’s getting fucked particularly well by a guy with an okay cock. All Ushijima has to do is dangle the possibility by a string in front of his face and he’s already half way there...

Oikawa nods eagerly, grabbing greedy handfuls of Ushijima’s perk ass and squeezing as their hips meet with increasing speed, colliding roughly together.

Ushijima groans as he rocks back and forth, clenching Oikawa’s thighs tighter around his waist as he savagely grinds his cock into his own. Oikawa could come like this, he has no doubt, but it’s not the way he wants to do this. Clawing at Ushijima’s back, Oikawa answers:

“I wanna fucking ride on it, bounce on it— _fuck_ —I just fucking  _want_  it.” He whines, sliding his hands from around Ushijima’s back towards his belt buckle, working the leather free. The sound of the belt cracking is incredibly pleasing to Oikawa as he works it quickly from the loops.

Ushijima rises off the bed, taking off his jeans and boxer briefs.

Oikawa goes to remove his own shirt and pants too, although much more eager and ungraceful than Ushijima, who, when done, admires Oikawa’s lithe but muscular body, the dusky pink of his nipples, and the flushed and dripping state of his cock reflecting his own need for Ushijima to touch him, take him, fuck him.

“Where’s the lube?” Oikawa asks impatiently, more than ready for this to just happen already.

“Top drawer,” Ushijima nods his head in its general direction, but Oikawa has a hard time trying to think of anything else when Ushijima is completely naked, his cock just as glorious and thick as Oikawa thought it would be.

He pauses in reaching for the lube in the night table, weighing his desires and finding that they’re just too many.

Oikawa gives Ushijima a look before he stretches out his hand, beckoning him with his eyes to either sit or lay down, communicating wordlessly that this is something that he really wants to do and damn it, Ushijima _will_ give him this.

Ushijima does without complaint, settling on his back as Oikawa shifts to make room for him.

He smiles triumphantly, crawling on the bed like a cat as he settles his butt between Ushijima’s thighs, his left hand resting on his hip.

“This is really nice.” Oikawa breathes, moving a warm palm underneath the underside, eyes sharp as he watches every miniscule shift in Ushijima’s expression. Oikawa wiggles back, resting comfortably on his stomach as he lays his head on Ushijima’s thigh, his lips so close to the flushed base of his cock that Ushijima jolts.

Oikawa circles him, giving leisure strokes that makes Ushijima’s breath deepen and his eyes flutter. He grins crooked when his fist tightens on the drawl up, circling perfectly around the head just so that Ushijima groans and Oikawa can’t help his own little moan he rocks in tandem with Ushijima’s powerful hips.

“Let me know what feels good,” Is all Oikawa says before licking a stripe along the length of his cock with the flat of his tongue, only to engulf the head into his mouth and start sucking.

Oikawa watches with lowered lids at how Ushijima head tilts back, his lips parting and brows furrowing on a pleasured moan.

Oikawa takes it as a good starting sign.

Shifting slightly, Oikawa moves his mouth further along Ushijima’s cock, making sure to drool on it because sloppy blowjobs are the best and not to brag or anything, but Oikawa does a pretty bang up job.

He makes sure to watch Ushijima as he slides down further, the girth of it spreading his mouth wider and wider, splitting his lips. Ushijima props himself up on his elbows, eyes blown and breath coming fast, watching him back with the same heated expression and Oikawa wants nothing more than to wreck the very founding core of this man.

Scratching lightly at the tuff of dark hair leading down to Ushijima’s groin, Oikawa moves his mouth back up, giving one last languorous suck to the head before popping off. He smiles smugly at how Ushijima moans, hips twitching up, his cockhead bumping against Oikawa's lips as if asking for re-entry.

Oikawa chuckles fondly, indulgently nuzzling his cheek against the hard, rigid length, perversely amazed by the scorching heat of it.

“I want you to make me,” Oikawa breathes, kissing messily at the sides and soothing his tongue against pulsing veins and arteries. He grabs Ushijima’s hand; the one clawed in the sheets and brings it up to rest on the crown of his head.

After a moment of hesitation, Ushijima shifts, bringing a knee up as he grabs a fistful of Oikawa’s hair. The pull at his roots is absolutely _wonderful_ and he gasps joyfully when Ushijima jerks him back, making him look up at him.

“This what you wanted?” It’s spoken darkly and Oikawa can’t help the shiver that runs down his spine like a coy finger at the sound of it. He nods his head as much as the pull at his hair allows, mouth gaping before he crudely offers his tongue.

Ushijima huffs something under his breath that sounds a lot like  _unbelievable_  but honestly Oikawa can’t be sure, the sound of blood pulsing through his ears seems to get louder and louder and before he knows it, the head of Ushijima’s cock is filling his mouth.

He eagerly makes room for the rest of it, trying to relax his jaw as the heavy weight settles on his tongue for a second—two seconds, before Ushijima is thrusting steadily into his mouth. It feels good being used for such base instincts and Oikawa tries to vocalize that as much as possible as he hums loudly, gripping at Ushijima’s hips for support.

“You’re something else entirely…” Ushijima grunts, raking the hair out of Oikawa’s face and gripping him newly by the bangs, hips pivoting at a faster pace.

Oikawa watches him, eyes lidded, tears prickling at the corners as his body ruts against the mattress, cock slippery between his belly and the sheets. He doesn’t think when his hand slides back under Ushijima’s thigh, finding his perineum and pushing his thumb in hard, stimulating his prostate from the outside.

Ushijima’s mouth drops open as his breath stutters and he makes this  _sound_  that makes Oikawa eyes roll back at the luscious tenor.

If Oikawa could smirk he would.

“ _Fuck_ ,” He groans, hand clutching tighter as Oikawa does it again, rubbing back and forth and a devious thought comes to mind. Sly fingers glide up, the palm of his hand cupping and lightly squeezing Ushijima’s balls, thumbing over the globes and Ushijima twitches in his mouth, hips arching into him.

Oikawa has no time to gloat as Ushijima pulls him off with a rough jerk, a translucent string of his spit and pre-come connecting Oikawa’s bottom lip with the head of Ushijima’s cock and he whines, weakly lunging back to try and take Ushijima back into his mouth again.

“Don’t you wanna come?” He breathes, hand reaching out and stroking wildly, eyes dark and begging. Ushijima indulges in the feeling for a while, licking his lips and fondly raking Oikawa’s hair out of his eyes.

“How do you want to do this?” Ushijima asks, reaching for the lube and a condom in the night stand drawer. Oikawa practically purrs, biting his bottom lip into his mouth and sucking, considering.

He climbs higher on the bed next to Ushijima, settling on his stomach and resting his chin on his arms, smiling charmingly as he answers.

“Be gentle okay, opening me up…” Oikawa murmurs, spreading his legs and rising slightly on his knees, giving a great view of his butt. He giggles softly as he watches Ushijima watch him. It’s flattering when partners can’t keep their eyes off him—sometimes Oikawa gets offended if they don’t, but with Ushijima it feels like he doesn’t even need to worry about it, knowing that he’s wanted so much.

Ushijima grunts, fishing out the condom and lube with one hand as he shuffles next to Oikawa. He pauses, not sure where he would like to start first and Oikawa playfully wiggles his ass in the air a few times to help him out.

Ushijima traces the curve of his ass with the palm of his hand before his lips and tongue replace it. Oikawa jerks on his elbows, moaning loudly as Ushijima continues down to his thighs, prompting them to spread.

Oikawa knows what Ushijima plans to do, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t any less shocking when he feels Ushijima’s thumbs dip into his crack, spreading him wide open and breathing on his most sensitive parts. Oikawa mewls into the sheets, the anticipation killing him as he rocks back, desperate for Ushijima’s touch.

“Mmm,  _please_ …please don’t tease me,” Oikawa isn’t above begging, especially when his pleading earns himself a smack on the ass. He jolts, eyes widening before fluttering to a close. Ushijima is so  _kinky_.

“Oh fuck— _mmnn_ , promise to do that again…”

He can hear Ushijima’s laughter, the sound fond instead of degrading that Oikawa finds himself laughing too.

“Hey, hurry up I—” He breaks off on a startled gasp at the first lick, curious and testing, the blunt of Ushijima’s tongue dragging over his hole and it feels so fucking good.

“ _Oh my god_ —” A whine tears out of his throat, octaves higher than his natural voice and absentmindedly a hand shoots out, desperately trying to grab onto anything as Ushijima moves his tongue faster, putting more pressure into his ministrations.

Oikawa hangs his head, breath coming out in panting sobs as he looks down through his own legs at Ushijima slowly stroking his cock while he eats Oikawa’s ass. The sight is so arousing that a thick stream of pre-come drips out of his cock, down onto the bedding, and Oikawa watches it with a perverse fascination, oddly rapt by the sight.

His hips push out more when he feels three of Ushijima’s fingers drag back and forth slowly over his hole. He’s soaking wet so the glide is easy while the friction is torturous. Ushijima does it for a while, lingering sometimes and screwing his fingers in, making Oikawa gasp or loudly cry out.

“ _Fuuuckk_ , get in me.” Oikawa begs, throwing a heated look over his shoulder and trailing a hand down his back only to reach his ass and spread himself wider.

Ushijima looks at him incredulous, as if he can’t quite believe someone like Oikawa Tooru exists and curses under his breath, popping open the cap of the lube bottle with his teeth.

The first press of a finger inside makes Oikawa lose his breath for a moment. Ushijima’s fingers are long and big, filling him more than what he feels he’s ever had before. When he starts rocking back on it, he asks for another and another until three of Ushijima’s fingers are pivoting easily inside of him, the extra lube not coating the path runs warmly down his thighs.

“That’s good, ‘s good,” Oikawa says frantically, gasping, reaching back for Ushijima. “Put it in or I’m gonna come.”

He buries his face in the pillow again, muffling his labored breathing and he can hear the wrapper of a condom being torn open before the unmistakable press of a cockhead against his hole.

Oikawa seizes, he always does, but he relaxes in the next moment when the palms Ushijima’s hands run over his back, soothing him before grasping at his hips.

He hesitates.

“You’re sure about this? I promise I’ll stop if you aren’t.”

Oikawa wants to laugh but instead he lifts his face from the pillow, pinning Ushijima with a no non-sense look as to emphasis how he’s on his knees, ass in the air and practically  _vibrating_ with energy, desperate for Ushijima to fuck him.

Oikawa scoffs, “What do you think?”

Ushijima tries to repress a smile, nodding his head.

When he starts to press in, Oikawa thinks that Ushijima didn’t prepare him enough, but after the initial resistance Ushijima slides in rather easily, filling Oikawa up bit by bit. Oikawa lets out a whimpering moan, letting himself get used to Ushijima as they sit still and wait when Ushijima’s hips meet flush with Oikawa’s ass.

Ushijima’s cock is thick, spreading and opening him up in ways he's never been, but it’s the angle that truly renders Oikawa thoughtless. He closes his eyes with a breathless moan, savoring the stretch and the burn of it before he rocks his hips back, silently urging Ushijima to move.

And he does, entering him in an achingly slow rhythm until his thrusts reach a faster tempo, sounding a quiet, fleshy smack each time their skin meets.

“You feel so nice.” Ushijima sighs hotly on the nape of his neck, stirring hairs. His big, all-encompassing hands run along Oikawa’s hips only to circle around his waist, fingers spreading and gliding up the contours of his chest to tweak and play at his nipples.

Oikawa pulls at the sheets, arching into it and gasping, surprised when Ushijima begins to lift him up on his knees, molding the curve of his spine against Ushijima’s solid chest. Ushijima slides that hand further, circling long fingers loosely around his neck, prompting Oikawa to rest the back of his head against Ushijima’s shoulder.

Oikawa exhales a heavy, shaking breath, squirming back on Ushijima’s cock, feeling impossibly fuller like this. He chokes off a curse at the first thrust. It rocks Oikawa forward, his left hand shooting out to stable himself against the headboard as his right reaches around and embeds itself in Ushijima’s hair, tugging.

“ _Fuck me_ —mm yeah—just like that…”

Ushijima hums, clutching him tighter and peppering bites and kisses both on the defined jut of his jaw. He fucks harder into him, hips rolling and carving into him so deep that Oikawa whines, pushing back just as desperately with the leverage he’s allowed.

Turning his head, Oikawa gets his own teeth into Ushijima’s jaw, little moans escaping out of him in huffs each time Ushijima’s cock rams into him and brushes over his prostate.

His own cock is heavy in-between his legs, flushed and bouncing, a wet messy thing that slaps against his stomach at each hard thrust. Oikawa looks down at it, suddenly too needy for words as his hand dislodges itself from Ushijima’s hair, and immediately reaches down to circle it.

To Oikawa’s surprise, Ushijima makes it there first. His hand closing around the leaking head and twisting, making Oikawa’s whole body seize and see stars. He throws his head back with a gasping wet keen, eyes watering.

“Nngg—oh fuck, nahhh—”

“That feel good?” Ushijima silkily asks on the shell of his ear as if he doesn’t already know how close Oikawa is to coming just from that alone. He eagerly nods his head anyway, not knowing if he should arch his hips backwards or forwards, the feelings of euphoria bleeding together so deliciously it makes him incoherent.

“Ushi—please,  _please_ —” He can feel Ushijima’s smile on his jaw, nuzzling and softly kissing before he pushes Oikawa back down with a shove, heavy hand on the middle of his back, keeping him pressed down. His cock is painfully hard between the sheets and his abdomen, but Oikawa ruts shamelessly against the bedding anyways.

He throws his head back, eyes wild and hot, biting his bottom lip into his mouth and arching his ass out to the best of his ability despite Ushijima’s weight pressing down on him. His toes curl as Ushijima starts to pound into him, shucking him little by little up the bed—and fuck—Oikawa’s never quite felt like this before, like his whole body is going to peel away from his skin each layer at time and leave nothing but burning embers.

His hand slams into the headboard to keep his head from bumping into it over and over and Oikawa screams, clawing at it with his nails.

“Ahhh—mmph—nnmmphh—” His eyes roll in the back of his head as Ushijima shows no signs of slowing down or softening his thrusts and Oikawa can feel himself drooling, a line escaping out of the corner of his gaping mouth. With any other person he might feel a bit embarrassed about it, but with Ushijima, Oikawa wants him to know how good he makes him feel.

The weight at the middle of his back slackens before disappearing entirely and Ushijima easily wraps his newly freed arm under Oikawa’s armpit, grasping strongly at his neck while his body hovers on top of his own.

Oikawa blinks, shivering as Ushijima slows the pace, but not the power behind it and kisses messily at his ear before asking, “You like how my cock feels? Gonna make you come?”

To demonstrate, Ushijima’s next thrust jabs perfectly at his prostate, making Oikawa whine high in his throat. He nods his head mindlessly.

“ _Yes_ —mmnn—yes I—” He breaks off on another gasping moan, tear escaping out of the corner of his eye.

“God, you’re so pretty,” Ushijima sighs dreamily on his temple, turning Oikawa’s head to kiss and lick indulgently and Oikawa’s eyes flutter shut.

“Make me come, please— _I can’t_ —” He’s so close it’s starting to hurt.

Ushijima isn’t condescending—doesn’t take himself too seriously like some people do, so when Oikawa asks Ushijima nods his head, giving him one last lingering kiss before lifting up and grabbing the headboard with both hands.

It’s truly amazing that he doesn’t break it or crush his fingers against the wall under the pressure.

Oikawa feels like he’s going to  _die_. The bubbling in his stomach is starting to fizz and all he can do is lie there and take it, too fucked out and boneless to do anything but let himself  _feel_  it—that overwhelming pressure.

He starts convulsing when Ushijima’s hand reaches under him and palms at his cock.

“Oh god—oh  _fuuuuckkk_ —”

He comes hard with his back hunching, mouth wide open on a silent scream as he floods the sheets beneath him. Dimly, he can hear Ushijima groan, losing his rhythm as Oikawa tightens around him and involuntarily ruts back into him, body on euphoric auto pilot as he rides the final waves.

Ushijima comes rather quiet, disappointingly enough, Oikawa vaguely thinks. He kindly holds himself up, shallowly thrusting into Oikawa’s quivering body a few more times before he pushes himself on the other side of the bed, breathing hard, sweat making the ends of his hair stick to his forehead and neck.

Oikawa watches him lazily, cataloguing his post-orgasm face and committing it to memory before his eyes start to get heavy. He yawns softly, muttering something to Ushijima before he falls into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

 

Oikawa wakes to a hand stroking softly over the curve of his hip. He snuggles deeper into the pillow at his cheek, stretching pleasantly sore muscles before opening his eyes and seeing Ushijima, already dressed in boxer shorts and not much else, but still…

Oikawa frowns, watching Ushijima read something on his tablet.

“You look so weird with your glasses on.” Oikawa manages to get out before yawning loudly, rising up on his elbows. Ushijima’s hand stills on his hip and his eyes focus so intensely on Oikawa’s face it’s embarrassing. He says as much, blushing and moving his eyes sideways.

Ushijima shakes his head fondly, snorting. “First time I’ve seen you get flustered tonight… _funny_.”

Oikawa shrugs, recognizing the irony.

“So…uh, are you gonna tell me how much of a big mistake this was or something? That you can’t because the age difference or my family?” Oikawa says hesitant.

The dream can’t last forever, he knows this. The thing is, Oikawa thought that once he slept with Ushijima the overwhelming lust he felt towards him would fade away and he would be able to move on with his life. He’s finding it to be quite the opposite.

The need is there still whenever he looks at Ushijima—the want and desire to take and be taken—but there’s something else now to accompany it, and Oikawa realizes with wide eyes that he’s in love with Ushijima Wakatoshi and  _damn it_ —has been for a while.

“Are you worried that I’m just going to throw you aside now, is that it?” Ushijima peers at him from over his frames, the look is knowing and makes Oikawa want to cover up for completely different reasons than him being naked.

He doesn’t answer, but the silence speaks more honestly than any words he could ever say.

“Oikawa,” His name spoken like that—like it’s something else entirely makes Oikawa's skin burn. “I’m not like that, and I don’t sleep with someone just because I find them highly attractive. I have to care about them.”

Oikawa’s pulse pounds loudly in his ears as hope starts to bloom like a flower inside his chest.

He gapes. “Are you—are you saying you like me too?”

Ushijima grins. “Yes, for reasons that still elude me.”

Oikawa laughs, clipping his shoulder lightly.

“Shut up.”


End file.
